Permanent Marks
by Rogue Ink-Pen
Summary: You wish something tragic never happened, but what if it didn't happen? But, what if something else- something worse- ended up happening instead? Harry left the graveyard with Cedric and an unexpected souvenir- what happens when it starts to affect him?
1. Chapter 1

This is my take on what happened in the graveyard fourth year and the events after. Bit different from canon, see. There's going to be violence and blood. Rated T for that and, possibly, future use of language. Have fun!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I do not, understood? Good.

**Permanent Marks **

Harry and Cedric slammed onto the damp grass. Both were out of breath from the fall. The cup rolled away from them as they regained their stances.

They appeared to be in a sort of graveyard- a particularly eerie graveyard. They both wandered, trying to understand why they were there.

"Harry, do you suppose this is part of the task?" Cedric thought aloud.

Maybe, Harry thought to himself. But, what were they supposed to do?

He wandered on through the gravestones, glancing at the names. He saw the name "Riddle" repeatedly.

_Riddle._

"Cedric," Harry called, "I don't think we're supposed to be here."

He reached the edge of the graveyard. He looked over the stone wall. He saw a large manor in the distance.

His insides curled.

He'd seen that manor. He'd seen who was in that manor.

"Cedric!" Harry shouted, scrambling back, "We need to get back!"

He ran through the graveyard. He spotted where Cedric stood, frozen to the spot.

"Harry," he said shakily.

Harry stopped dead frozen, too. Beside a large statue and another gravestone, was a giant, smoking cauldron. The flames below licked the black cauldron, and every once in a while, reached out to the two horrified teenagers.

Then, they saw a cloaked figure carrying something, walking towards them. They glided towards the two. As the figure approached, Harry recognized him. Wormtail.

Had he not been so terrified, he would've attacked the slimy traitor.

Wormtail carried something. Something wrapped in robes, almost like a baby. But Harry knew that was no baby.

Pettigrew took out his wand, his creepy little eyes fixed on the two boys. He pointed it at Cedric.

"Cedric, look out!" Harry yelled. A sudden pain shot through his scar and he fell to the ground on his knees, unable to move himself.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" a green jet flew at the 17 year old. He jumped away and it barely skimmed his hair. Another jet flew at him, and he scrambled behind a gravestone.

Cedric leaned against the cold stone and reached for his wand. He realized with a shudder that he didn't have it.

Pettigrew moved after the older boy, but a scratchy, weak voice yelled out, "_No, Wormtail," _the voice took a labored breath, _"Let him cower in fear. We have more important things to attend to. We will deal with him later," _Another labored breath, _"Let him watch, but make sure he doesn't interfere. And when this is over and done," _he rasped another breath, _"kill him."_

Pettigrew whimpered as he bowed his head. He raised his wand towards Harry. Harry, with a crashing force, flew across the graveyard and slammed into the statue, which used its stone arms to hold the struggling fourteen year old down. But as he had slammed against the stone, he could have sworn he felt something in his side crack.

Wormtail whimpered as he approached the cauldron, still carrying the bundle. He dropped the thing into the burning hot cauldron. A piercing scream rang out through the night and sent burning chills through each of their bones.

Pettigrew stumbled towards a grave marked, Tom Riddle. "_Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"_

A dusty bone rose up out of the ground and was dropped in the burning cauldron with a splash.

_"Flesh of the servant, w-willingly given. Y-you will revive your master," _Pettigrew gave loud, sickening sobs as he took out a dagger. It was an ornate dagger, covered in silver, rubies, and emeralds. The handle consisted of silver twisted to look like intertwining snakes.

Harry watched, struggling against the hard, unmovable statue. The pain in his forehead was intense. He could barely see, for that and that he had misplaced his glasses somewhere. His legs finally gave out, and he was only supported by the statue.

Pettigrew raised the dagger and his other wrist. He looked ready to throw himself onto the ground and cry. He brought the dagger down, and Harry gave a shout as the traitor's hand fell into the cauldron. Blood spewed and squirted from the stump. The bone was even visible.

Pettigrew finally dropped to the ground, cradling his bloody stump. He wrapped his robes around it. The blood seeped and stained the black fabric.

Cedric ran over to where Harry stood, his wand clutched in his hand. Horror was written on his face, as he had seen the event while searching for his blasted wand. But determination shown in his eyes.

"_Bombarda_!" he shouted at the statue's shoulders.

With an explosion, the stone broke apart and the statue's arms detached. Shards flew and created cuts on both Harry and Cedric, drawing blood. Harry limped to the ground, the pain becoming overwhelming. It felt like his head was exploding.

Pettigrew snapped his head toward the boys.

"_Flipendo_!" Pettigrew shouted through the sobs. Cedric flew backwards and landed onto the ground heavily. "_Stupefy_!" he shouted again, and the seventeen year old flew back again once more and hit his head against a gravestone and limped.

"Cedric!" Harry shouted.

"_Crucio_!" Pettigrew yelled at Harry.

He screamed at the effects of the spell. Electric pain shot throughout his body. Too much pain, he wanted to just die if it meant ending it all! He squirmed on the ground against the unforgivable curse.

It finally stopped and Harry limped and struggled for breath. One of his ribs must've been broken.

Wormtail grabbed Harry by the collar and dragged him near the cauldron. Harry, probably the after-effects of the curse, felt a hot numbness pulsing through his body. Through all of the aches and pains in his body, he barely felt the heat of the nearby flames.

Pettigrew lifted the dagger again with his only hand, "_Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, y-you will resurrect your foe." _The slimy traitor regarded his former friend's son only for a moment before plunging the dagger into Harry's arm. He gave a withered scream as Pettigrew drove it further along his limb. Crimson liquid poured from the wound, splattering against him, Pettigrew, and the surrounding ground.

Pettigrew held a vial to collect the crimson blood. He regarded it, and, as though it was insufficient, drove the dagger into Harry's shoulder as well with a stabbing force. By now, the ugly man was sobbing harder than ever.

Both of their bloods stained against Harry's robes, causing them to be soaked with the crimson liquid.

Wormtail finally struggled up and moved away from Harry slightly to dump the blood-filled vial into the massive cauldron. Harry clutched his bleeding wounds desperately, hoping beyond hope that it wouldn't work.

The moment the vial hit the surface of the potion, it shone with a blinding light and sparks flew with incredible force.

A crack of lightening split across the sky, as though breaking it in two. A spiny, pale hand emerged from the potion. Soon another hand emerged. Before long, an entire spiny, skeletal, death-pale body had risen out of the cauldron.

Everything else in the world seemed to have blasted away for Harry. The only thing he could think of was that Voldemort had risen.

Wormtail scrambled towards his master, spluttering undecipherable words to him as he brought robes. Once he had the robes on, Voldemort took a deep breath and held his arms out, marveling at the quiet, eerie breeze that ran past him. He could breath, he could feel. Such things he had taken for granted before, but they were in his grasp now.

His face had a great resemblance to a snake. He had no hair and his white skin was stretched over his skull. He had no human nose, but snake slit nostrils. His eyes glowed redder than all of the surrounding blood, his pupils in slits.

"Wormtail," he rasped.

The pathetic man whimpered in response.

"I suppose you expect some kind of reward," he spat. Wormtail fell to his knees, sobbing, "You could not hope to be loyal to anyone. You returned in fear."

"M-my lord," he sobbed, "I-I will al-always be loyal to you."

"You have proved yourself useful this past year," Voldemort held out his hand for his wand.

Wormtail gave him his yew wand.

"Hold out your hand," he commanded.

Wormtail held out his bleeding stump. Voldemort grabbed it forcibly and performed a spell that Harry couldn't see. But once Pettigrew was visible again, he saw that he had a new, silvery hand and the bleeding had stopped.

"Thank you, master. Thank you."

"Silence and hold out your arm," Voldemort hissed.

Pettigrew shakily held out his arm. Voldemort pulled back his sleeve to reveal a dark mark.

Anger built up inside Harry. How dare he? His father's friend, responsible for their lives and he just betrayed them. They trusted the slimy rat!

Voldemort pressed his wand against the dark mark.

Soon, hooded people were standing in a circle around him. Death Eaters.

Voldemort gave a speech to his prominent followers. He spoke of how he was disappointed that they never looked for him.

Harry lifted his head. If they didn't get out of there, no one would know of Voldemort's return and the entire world would be vulnerable. He bit back the pain as he moved to stand up. His arm gave out almost immediately. The bleeding worsened.

He took a deep breath as he began to crawl one-handed. The ground rubbed against his wounds. He held out his hand and pulled his body forward, over and over.

He finally reached where Cedric lay. Harry grabbed Cedric's wand.

"_Ennervate_," he muttered.

Cedric woke up with a start, his eyes snapped open, unfocused at first.

"Harry," he murmured, "What- where is he?" his eyes darted around. He saw the group of Death Eaters and Voldemort. His eyes widened and the remaining color drained from his handsome face. His mouth went ajar.

For a second, he looked like he was about go back unconscious.

"Cedric, we need to get out of here," Harry whispered, "It's the cup that got here, it's the only hope we have of getting back."

Cedric nodded, though, as if in a stupor.

_"Potter!" _Voldemort snapped.

Both boys snapped their heads towards them.

"You're not trying to escape, are you?" he asked in fake concern, "Wormtail, bring him to me."

Wormtail made his way towards Harry.

"And who would be your friend, Harry? Such a pretty boy, isn't he?" he mocked, noticing Cedric, "No, wait, I believe I know. The real Hogwarts _champion._" he sneered, then addressed some of his Death Eaters, "Do what you will with him."

Several Death Eaters circled around Cedric.

_"Crucio!"_ Harry heard one of the Death Eater's shout.

He heard Cedric scream.

"No!" he shouted. Pettigrew grabbed his collar and dragged him away. He threw him at Voldemort's feet.

Voldemort pointed his yew wand toward Harry, "_Mobilicorpus_."

Harry floated into a standing position. He looked away from Voldemort.

_"Look me in the eye."_

Harry felt his head wrench towards him, but he kept his eyes low.

"Fine, then, have it your way," Voldemort began to circle him like a hawk, "Harry Potter, the boy I've wanted nothing more than to kill for the past 13 years. I could kill you now. I could even do nothing and you'd die within the week," he spoke, "The only reason you survived 13 years ago was because I overlooked an old magic. Something I should have anticipated.

"But, you have potential. Though, I would very much enjoy killing you now, I will give you a chance. I am a merciful lord. Join me, Harry Potter."

Harry tried struggling against the invisible force holding him, "_Never," _he spat.

"Very well, then, Potter," Voldemort looked to Harry's bleeding arm.

He raised his wand, forcing Harry to raise his wounded arm and turn it over.

Without warning, Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand against the cut, "_Incidere* Mosmorde_!"

Instantly, white-hot pain erupted at the spot and spread through his entire forearm. It felt as though someone had plunged his arm into flames.

He didn't have the voice to scream, instead it came out as a weak rasp.

Before long, his scar burst into pain as well.

The only thing he could see, was the cut wound. The blood immediately surrounding the wound gathered onto the cut. The cut itself appeared to heal. It left a white scar that twisted into the image of a snake slithering out of a skull's mouth. It began to glow a blinding white, and the burning intensified. The glowing died, and the mark turned black. The burning finally subsided.

Voldemort jerked his wand away from the new mark. He dropped his wand and Harry fell onto the ground. He held his arm close to him. It throbbed, and the image twisted on his skin.

"Yes, Potter, it's a dark mark," Voldemort said, "When they find both of your bodies, they will know and they will fear."

Harry heard Cedric scream.

"I will kill you, Potter. But first, you will pay for the last years," he whispered.

Voldemort sent several cutting hexes at Harry. Three hit him in the torso, two hit him on the face. The Death Eaters joined in. Goyle, he thought, gave him a blow to the jaw.

Harry spat out metallic-tasting blood. He curled his nose slightly at the taste.

More _Crucios _were put on him, as well. More spells, some he didn't even know, were used to cause pain and draw blood.

"It's a shame the blood protection doesn't work as well, anymore," Voldemort commented, "See, your blood now flows through my veins, as well."

Harry was forced into a standing position. He felt his wand be put in his hand.

"I feel unusually merciful today," Voldemort said, "I will let you die fighting. The perfect end to a tragic hero, doesn't that sound right?"

Harry lifted his head and tightened his grip on his wand. This could be his only chance.

He glanced towards Cedric. The Death Eaters had lost interest in him and he lay in his own blood. He turned his head towards Harry. He lifted himself out the ground and tried to steady himself. He scrambled around for his wand until he found it.

Harry and Cedric locked eyes. They both knew that they had to get back to Hogwarts. They didn't have a plan, but knew what they had to do.

Harry looked back to Voldemort.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _Voldemort shouted.

_"Expelliarmus!" _Harry shouted.

The red and green jet of light met in the middle. It glowed gold at the meeting point. Vibrating pulses ran through the surrounding air and the jets of light. Soon the entire stream of light turned gold. A blinding pulse of gold light exploded from the center.**

The force blasted them all off their feet and ten feet backwards.

Harry brushed off the surprise and jumped to his weak feet. The only thing that kept him standing was a sudden rush of adrenaline and what must've been his own source of magic.

He saw Cedric ahead of him also running away from the Death Eaters. Another jet of green light flew past them. They threw themselves behind the gravestones, using them as shields.

"Where's the cup?" Harry shouted, blood splattering out of his mouth as he did. He felt his energy dying down and his breath becoming extremely labored.

"_Accio Cup!" _Cedric shouted.

Nothing happened.

More jets of light flew past the gravestones.

Of course _Accio_ wouldn't work, Harry thought to himself. It sure would have made the entire third task the hell of a lot easier.

"There!"

The Cup was out in a open space. It would be taking a chance, they would have no way of deflecting spells.

Another jet of green light flew close to them. They didn't have another choice.

They dashed to the ornate cup. They both had just put their hands onto the cup when they were both hit with a violent orange light. They were thrown away from the graveyard and heard Voldemort's furious yell.

They didn't know what spell had hit them, but they certainly felt what the effects must've been. They both already had heavily bleeding wounds. Once they were hit with the spell, knew wounds appeared and the overall bleeding increased rapidly.

They both fell onto the ground. Harry saw Cedric go limp and a pool of blood forming around them both. Initially he heard the sound of cheers, but the cheers turned into screams and urgent shouts. His world was fading out.

Voldemort was back, Voldemort was back.

He heard various voices, some stood out.

"We need a medic over here!"

"Bloody hell, what happened?!"

"Are they dead?!"

"Harry? Harry?!"

He felt himself be lifted. Soon, he seemed to leave his body. He was surrounded by darkness. The voices turned into background noise, which, too, faded out. He felt like a half-aware body floating in darkness before his consciousness finally broke.

* * *

*Incidere- from what I checked on an online translator, it means "cut" in Latin

**Yeah, it's not priori incantatem, just because that specific plot device never made much sense to me. This is what I normally prefer

Well, thank you for reading. Wow, there sure ended up being a lot more blood than I initially planned. Dang.

More chapters or not? What do you think? Also, let me know if I got the spells wrong. Let me know what you think and you're input on what you hope happens next.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: No one ever reads these, so what's the point of restating over and over that I don't own Harry Potter and this is for entertainment only? How could you really earn money from this, honestly.

* * *

He felt like he was drowning in the Black Lake again. He seemed to be floating in nothing but darkness. He couldn't feel his own body, making it completely useless to him. But he felt pain, stabbing pain.

He fought to reach the surface. He began to see white, lots of white. He began to feel, the sheets under him, his head resting against a soft pillow. He regained some feeling in his arms, legs, and head, but he couldn't move, try as he might.

The pain intensified. Stabbing pains, cutting pains, stinging pains, throbbing pains.

He began to hear. He heard commotion. In his peripheral vision, he saw another bed across the way. Two people were bustling madly over a 17 year old. He felt like he knew him from somewhere.

He could move his fingers, then his hands. Then he regained full feeling in his arms. He gave a sudden shout of pain. He finally became aware of an overwhelming burning in his right arm.

He heard a woman's terrified voice, but most of it was a slur to him, he only understood half of the words. To him, it sounded like it was being heard through a long, hallow tunnel.

_"…Pomfrey…just…woke…!"_

He felt someone grab him firmly by the jaw. He tried to squirm away from the unknown person. His mouth was forced open and he felt liquid being spilt in it. He automatically swallowed, and he instantly felt himself drowning in the darkness again.

He had no way of knowing how often, but he knew that he kept drifting in and out like that. It would only be for a few seconds before he went out again.

Most often, he would see the same lady in white fussing over him somehow. In that instance, it was often she who caused him to go back unconscious again.

But sometimes he saw other people, as well. Repeatedly visiting were a red-headed boy, a girl with bushy brown hair, a red-headed girl, a black dog, and an old man with a ridiculously long beard. Once or twice, he saw a pretty black-haired girl at the other boy's bedside, crying more often than not.

He eventually stopped feeling the burning in his left arm, which instead felt curiously numb. But the pain everywhere else continued on.

As time, in his perception of it, went on, he began to remember more and more about himself. His name was Harry, Harry Potter. He was a wizard. He had been in a graveyard. That other boy's name was Cedric Diggory. Feeling like hell, apparently, wasn't unusual for him, too.

One day, he surfaced again. He regained his senses much quicker than all of the times before. He opened his bleary eyes.

He ached everywhere, but most of the pain had subsided. He tried to sit up but his arms and upper body gave out and he thumped against the pillow.

"Not so, fast, Harry," said the old man, approaching his bedside, "You don't want to injure yourself further."

Harry knew that he knew- or at least, had once known- the old man. He furiously racked around his blurry memory.

"Dumbledore," he muttered finally.

"Yes?" asked the old man.

"You're Dumbledore," Harry repeated.

"Yes, since I was born," Dumbledore nodded, "Quite a long time ago, it was."

"I don't remember," Harry muttered, becoming somewhat panicky.

"Neither do I," said the old man, seemingly not knowing what Harry meant.

Harry shook his head, "No, I mean, I don't remember- _hardly anything_."

Without a word to Harry, Dumbledore left. He grew angry, until the old man came back with the nurse.

The nurse handed a bottle of muddy green potion. Harry curled his nose at the pungent odor.

"It's not pleasant, but it'll help to clear up your memory," she propped his head up and drained the potion into his mouth.

Harry forced it down and gagged slightly. Disgusting- almost as bad as that polyjuice potion…

…That polyjuice potion, the one that he had to drink in the second year. The one he drank with his friends, Hermione and Ron. Hermione half-turned into a cat.

He smiled slightly as he began to remember everything- at least until he remembered the full details of the graveyard.

His eyes darted to his left arm. His mouth dropped open in horror at the sight of the black dark mark burned into his skin.

Before the two adults in the room could stop him, he darted off the hospital bed, his body protesting furiously at the sudden movement.

He darted into the pearl-white bathroom and slammed the door behind him. He clicked the lock before he leaned back against the wall. He ended up sitting on the cold, hard floor. He kept his arm at eye level, never taking his eyes away from the mark.

He tried to push back the little part of him that just wanted to smile and laugh at the sight of it.

He heard Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore try to coax him out of the bathroom, but he didn't budge. Did they know? How could they not?

He felt himself pale. What if the whole school knew? What if his friends new? What would they say?

He then heard someone else trying to coax him out.

"Harry, you in there?" Cedric asked through the door.

"Cedric?" Harry asked, "You okay?"

"Getting better," he said with a hint of a laugh, "Listen, Madam Pomfrey says you shouldn't be straining yourself like this."

Slowly, he put himself into a standing position. He unlocked the door and opened it. He saw the three people standing there, he refused to meet their eyes. He felt stupid for doing something so childish.

"Mr. Diggory," Dumbledore whispered, "You may leave, now."

"What?" Cedric asked, "Oh, right."

He left the room, glancing back at Harry a few times.

"Harry, why did you seem so worried?" Dumbledore asked him.

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. Eventually, he held his arm out, not saying a word.

"Yes," Dumbledore said gravely, "I see…"

"Who knows?" Harry hissed.

"Madam Pomfrey saw it while treating you, naturally, she came straight to me," Dumbledore answered quietly, "Mr. Diggory also knows, as he told us."

"Do Ron and Hermione know?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "We haven't told anyone."

Harry felt a quick wave of relief. He glanced at the serpent and the skull again.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked.

"I'm not entirely sure, Harry," Dumbledore whispered.

"_Why not, old man?_" he snapped.

Madam Pomfrey, who had been silent all through the exchange, looked surprised and appalled at the teenager's outburst. Dumbledore didn't say a word, but kept his eyes from looking at Harry.

"I will try to explain," said the old man wearily, "later."

"_It's always later with you," _Harry hissed, "_You always wait until afterwards to explain- every year!_"

"Harry, please," Dumbledore said sadly, "This is in no way easy for me or-"

"_Easy for you?_" Harry shouted angrily, "_You're not the one who has _this!" he held out his marked arm, "_You're not the one who nearly died seeing Voldemort return,_" he glared at the both of them, "_You're not the one wondering who did this to you, and planning his immediate demise!"_

"It was Auror Moody," Dumbledore explained, "Or, rather, Barty Crouch Jr."

"_What? You really have lost your mind! Crouch is dead!"_

Dumbledore explained what happened to Crouch, "He had, through the excitement, apparently, forgotten to take his polyjuice potion. He reverted back to his normal appearance and was taken into questioning. We had Snape put him under the influence of Veritaserum and taken into questioning. He told us his entire plan. He's now back in Azkaban, and the ministry is informing the local wizarding community."

A dark look crossed Harry's face, "Snape owes me an apology, then. He accused me of stealing from his stores to make polyjuice potion. _He threatened to force-feed me Veritaserum._"

Dumbledore looked surprised, "I will speak to him."

"_And I will jinx him," _Harry seethed.

Madam Pomfrey stepped in and led Harry to his hospital bed, "I'm sure that's just the potion talking."

"What exactly did you give me, anyway?" Harry asked casually, suddenly feeling less angry."

Her eyebrows raised slightly, "Just a stimulating potion."

Harry laid back against the pillow. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the old man leave the Hospital Wing.

"You need to rest," Madam Pomfrey said strictly, "That means no visitors."

"Alright," Harry mumbled. He didn't really want to see Ron and Hermione yet, anyway.

Later that night, Harry watched the moon beams reach through the window and cross the room, shining directly in his face. He silently cursed that stimulating potion, as he didn't have a hope of falling asleep.

He didn't like the Hospital Wing environment, either.

He had given up formulating what he would say to his friends. He resolved that he just wouldn't tell them- at least not soon.

Sitting up, he wondered if he could sneak off to the Gryffindor common room and simply spend the night there, before he realized that he didn't want to be there, either.

He still climbed out of the hospital bed and dressed back into his normal clothes. He clenched his teeth at the cloth rubbing against the healing wounds and scars. Almost tip-toeing, he left the hospital wing.

He wondered the corridors, his eyes darting around, checking for people he really didn't want to see. He wished he had his invisibility cloak, but didn't particularly feel like fetching it.

He stopped in front of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He decided he would stop by for a visit.

Walking into the girl's lavatory, he immediately spotted Myrtle hovering against the wall, sobbing.

"Hello, Myrtle," Harry spoke up.

"Oh, it's you," she sniffed loudly, "I was wondering if you'd drowned."

"If I had," Harry said, amused, "Would you still have let me stay in the bathroom," he remembered her offer at the end of second year.

"I suppose," she shrugged, ghostly tears running down her face.

"Not that I would ever be a ghost, though," he commented.

"But, why?" she said and hiccoughed.

"Well, see, it never really tickled my fancy to be a disembodied spirit floating through solid objects for the rest of eternity," Harry explained.

Myrtle thought a little bit before she gave a crying scream and disappeared into the toilet.

Harry shook his head and reminisced about second year. He remembered the polyjuice potion, again, and having to sneak into the Slytherin common room. It wasn't really a bad common room, looking back on it. He remembered how it wasn't as cold as he had originally presumed.

He glanced at the sinks, which looked like normal sinks. Only he, Ron, and Ginny (and Voldemort) knew where the Chamber of Secrets was located, as none of them had revealed the location to anyone- even Hermione. He had no doubt that it was still there.

He stood up and inspected the sink, looking for the small snake. He found it, it's emerald eye glared back at him.

_"It's hard to believe that no one ever noticed you," _he said in Parstletongue, running his hand along the silver snake.

The sinks parted and revealed the tunnel into the Chamber. He followed the tunnel, into the caves, and into the main chamber. The snake statues still unnerved him, but, unlike last time, he was confident that a basilisk wasn't going to slither out of one of the pipes.

He stopped in front of the rotting basilisk corpse. It's skeleton stood out, with dried skin hanging loosely. It was covered in dried blood, and the stab wound still remained from the Sword of Gryffindor. He wrinkled his nose at the rotting odor.

On the cold, stone floor, he saw the pool of dried blood and ink, and also on the floor, exactly where he had left it, was the ink-covered basilisk fang.

He stared up at the giant statue of Salazar Slytherin and thought. He wasn't the one who had opened the Chamber- to command the basilisk- but could he still be considered an Heir of Slytherin? He wasn't a blood descendent, but he still inherited his abilities- thanks to Voldemort. He realized that, had he had known, he could have opened the Chamber and commanded the basilisk.

He glanced at the serpent's corpse. Ever since he was younger- whether he consciously acknowledge it or not- he had always held an odd interest towards snakes. He didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but it seemed like that interest had increased.

He imagined himself leading the living basilisk through corridors, killing his enemies and whoever had suspected him. The basilisk would carry out whatever order he gave it.

But then he thought of himself with an evil smirk and glowing red snake eyes.

He was startled out of his reverie from the sudden burning of his Dark Mark.

He suddenly panicked when it hit him with full force where he was. He had actually thought of himself as doing exactly what _Voldemort _had done- being the monster that he had been.

Without thinking, he sprinted away from the statue, away from the corpse, and away from the thoughts he had had.

He flew past the snakes, their ruby eyes flashing at him.

He didn't look where he was going, and slipped on a puddle of water. He fell and hit his head on the hard ground. He felt a brief sense of déjà vu as colors of the dark Chamber blurred.

"_Not again,_" he slurred and blacked out.


End file.
